


this kind of morning

by QueenOfSkaro



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College, Art!Steve, Is this a meet-cute?, M/M, Natasha being the best, and a slob, bucky being an idiot, i dont know, no powers, pre-serum!Steve, so just the normal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfSkaro/pseuds/QueenOfSkaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is in head-over-heels for art student Steve Rogers. <br/>It doesn't matter that he's terrible at painting - he'll still sit through classes to get near him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this kind of morning

The tree looked synthetic in front of the red, one story building. It was too green, the branches too pronounced and the leaves too massive. The bark looked free of texture and the swing hanging from an overly thick branch hang limply towards grass that was in desperate need of a trim. Flowers half as tall as the house overgrew what used to be a walkway, with bloom so big it should be impossible for the stems to hold up. Three birds could be seen far in the distance in front of a laughing sun and the house blew smoke out of its chimney.

"That's got to be the ugliest painting I've ever seen.", Clint burst out laughing. The others looked like they wanted to join but kept themselves in check for decencys sake, though it was glaringly obvious that no one objected.  
Bucky prides himself with being not overly delusional, so it wasn't as if he didn't know before that he wasn't van Gogh or Picasso. His painting skills resembled more those of a preschooler rather than a college student. He barely knew which end of a pen should go onto the paper, let alone what to do then. He was more a tablet kind of guy.

From an impartial point of view it was probably a waste of time - if it wasn't the only class he could share with Steve Rogers without shredding his schedule.  
Looking at the disgrace he spend the last class on he considered the possibility that Rogers maybe wasn't special enough to warrant those tortures, but then he thought of a blinding smile and a little tooth gap and strawblond hair and a body that would feel fucking perfect under - eh, against - his and he balled the painting up in his fist, throwing it at Clints head.

Except the bastard ducked and Buckys heart stopped for the split second it took Natasha to catch it. That was a close call. She chucked it at his head and even though he'd say that he let her hit him he wasn't sure if he'd been able to get out of the way on time anyway. Probably not.  
The last time he tried he fell into a lake in the process and she still managed to score a hit.

"I know that you took the class in the name of love and all, but don't you think you should just ask him already? Because if he ever happened on one of your assignments he'll think you're somehow disabled - in your brain.", Bruce took a moment of his valuable time to warn him and - he kind of got a point there. And that, more than anything else, showed that he was in way to deep. Because if Bruce, with his track record of relationships could see that and Bucky didn't - that was a new abyss he never wanted to discover.

"Doesn't everybody already know that?", Tony teased and Bucky hit him over the head with a throwpillow. He was surrounded by asshats, even though he normally called them friends. But then they were asshats too, so it didn't make that much of a difference.  
"It's not that easy, loser. Don't you think I would have done it already if it was?", Bucky whined - not whined, exactly, more like a - like a - fuck it. He couldn't think of a manlier word. There had to be one, he couldn't be the only man wanting a cover up for that.

Standing up he purposely stepped on Tonys outstretched foot, earning a cry and he felt a little better as he went into the kitchen to grab some beers.  
This whole - whatever - wasn't fair in the least. He kept moaning about some unrequited crush on the worlds most handsome artist and said artist didn't even know his name. He called him Butch the first and only time they talked, last week, as Bucky tried to casually walk into him on purpose to start a conversation and Steve side-stepped him and told him to be "Careful, Butch." That wasn't exactly the highlight of his week.

Chugging half of his beer down before he even got the others out of the fridge gave Natasha enough time to come after him. Because of course what he needed most was a lecture of his best friend.  
"Tomorrow.", she stated without preamble and whoever asked he'd say it was her who yowled - not that anyone would believe him - as he turned around to look at her in disbelief.

"No.", he refused outright, which never happened. But this was a particular situation he had never encountered. Of course he'd been an idiot before and in love he'd been in the past too. Briefly, mostly for a few weeks and or a few shags, whichever happened sooner. Not I-visit-classes-I-don't-care-about-and-am-especially-bad-at-just-to-be-in-the-same-room-as-you in love. None of them were Rogers and it drove him mad enough to argue with Natasha. A whole different, disastrous level of madness and in-love-ness and he was pretty grateful for Natasha to hit his arm to get him out of his funk.

"Tomorrow you'll talk to him. None of us will survive another episode of "The embarrassing crush of James Barnes". This is were I draw the line. Talk to him or I'll draw him a detailed picture of you, that crazy redhead and her pet turtle.", she threatened, which was just uncalled for.  
"You weren't even there!", he complained and waved his bottle around. After all this time of hoping it would never be talked about again she actually went there. Didn't this stuff have a date of expiry or something?

"Thank God I wasn't. But it will be enough to scare him off forever. And most likely report you to the cops.", smiling winningly she opened her beer and took a swig, looking as ladylike and deadly, she could have manicured herself with a hunting knife.  
Bucky would like nothing more than to call her out on a bluff, but that was very nearly impossible. Most times it wasn't worth it to push his luck.  
"You are the devil.", he growled and emptied his beer, getting a new one and left for the living room where the rest of his ungrateful bunch of friends sat.  
Tomorrow would be easier to manage if he got good and drunk.

 

Tomorrow wasn't easier.  
He had a splitting headache and almost overslept, but not long enough to say "Fuck it", roll back around and stay in bed.  
This was the oversleeping where you almost puked because you got up so fast and then very nearly brained yourself falling right over with your feet still up in bed in the blanket. The kind where you couldn't even shower because your asshole roommate hogged it, all the while cackling madly and then you went to the toilet and washed your hands extra long just to hear him yell in shock.

It was the kind of oversleeping where you burst into the lecture at the last possible minute and noticed as soon as you sat down that you forgot to brush your hair. Growning he hit his head on his squeaking table, gathering the attention of those sitting around him, but at least not holding it for long.  
The professor droned on about - now that he thought about it he didn't remember a word. Entirely possible he fell asleep for a minute or ten.

Everyone around him left as soon as they were allowed, but Bucky was free for over an hour and wasn't in a hurry to brace the day, whoever wanted his chair next period could fight him.  
"Hey, you okay there?", someone asked and, while a little confused why he wasn't alone yet he lifted his hand to signal that, yes, everything was fucking peachy.  
"Too much to drink last night? Or just a long night with your girlfriend?", the nosy guy chuckled awkwardly. Starting to picture the person chuckling gave him an image of blond hair and a warm smile and with a terrible foreboding he slowly lifted his head.

And of course there he was in all his artsy glory, grabbing a paint smudge on his elbow, picking at it with equally stained fingers, shoulders tense and stiff.  
That was - new. Not the talking bit - that too, but while Bucky never reckoned that would happen he couldn't start thinking about it now, because once he started he'd think himself stupid and with that he already felt at a disadvantage whenever he was around Steve.   
Steve, who normally wasn't tense, but care-free and full of sunlight smiles. Maybe Bucky was a bit biased, but he thought of himself as observant and tense was never something he observed with Steve. He should stop before he officially sounded like a stalker.

"Uh - yeah.", he tried to sound confident, but just felt stupid because he couldn't remember what the other had asked and now the blond looked really distressed for a moment and that just didn't sit well with him.  
"Do I make you nervous or something?", he asked unsettled.  
"What? No of course not. I just - wanted to ask if you needed my notes. You didn't look as if you were listening and I didn't want you to miss something. You're always so attentive that I thought - well, never mind. Do you want them?", Steve inquired, looking closely.

Not knowing what the right answer would be - he wasn't exactly used to talking to the blond - he just nodded, took the offered notes as soon as they were in range and kept on staring like an idiot.  
"Right. I'll just - go then. I guess. You can give them back whenever you copied them, no stress. Or, you know, keep them. I read it in advance, I know that stuff anyway. Just - uh - yeah. Bye.", Steve babbled - like an idiot, but Bucky would never think that in correlation with Steve, because Steve was perfect and no idiot at all. Perfect Steve who scowled and turned and wanted to go - away from him.

Even aside from Natashas deadline he didn't want to let the other go - not now when they had talked for the first time. Talked is a little farfetched, granted, but Bucky was out of his chair with his hand around the others arm before he could think about that.  
Looking a little shocked and a lot angry Steve yanked at the arm the taller was attached to.  
"What's your problem?", he grunted through locked teeth, looking more annoyed by the second.   
But Bucky overslept and it was the kind of oversleeping where nothing seems to go as you want it and where it feels as if you left your brain in bed. It's the oversleeping where you do things without thinking about it, things you would never do otherwise because your brain would talk you out of it.

It was the kind of morning where Bucky stopped every self-doubt and every what-if with a kiss smack on his crushs lips, lips that were soft and sweet and bitten and gone after two heartbeats, because Steve shoved him off, looking pinched and disgusted.  
It was that kinda morning you got your heart broken in a lecture hall while your head exploded because you naturally had to drink last night.

"Fuck.", he said quietly and made a grab for his bag. "Fuck Fuck Fuck.", he repeated and wanted to make a dash for the door, but stopped as he noticed that his tiny opposite blocked the direct way out.   
"Calm down.", the blond advised carefully.  
"What? No. I mean, I am calm. Go.", the darkhaired panicked and made a shooing motion with his hands. 

Laughter was the last he expected to hear from the artist and that had him pausing in his rushed escape.  
"What?", he huffed.  
"Calm down, for gods sake. It's just that you're reeking. Brush your teeth and you can kiss me whenever you want.", Steve grinned cheekily and that - wasn't what he thought was an option any longer. He smacked his lips a few times and his face distorted vaguely.

"It tastes like something died in there. Last week.", he groused and pursed his lips.  
"Yeah, no shit. Go home, take a shower and brush your teeth, before you fetch me after my art history class. And remember the kiss you owe me, got it?", Steve grinned brightly and, with visible effort, stood up on his toes to kiss him on the cheek.  
"Your hair, too. I won't have my boyfriend look like a homeless in front of my friends.", he admonished and then left him standing in the empty lecture hall.

Still in shock over what just happened Bucky slowly took the steps up to the door and stroked trough his hair, suddenly jerking out of his trance as he pulled on a knot and then started running to his appartement.   
Today was the kind of oversleeping were nothing worked on the first try. But the second might be equally worth it.


End file.
